Book 2: Recovery: The Journal of Arya
by Unavoidablechinmove
Summary: Eragon was not the only one to struggle with his own inner strife in Recovery. This is the journal of Arya, and it tells the tale of what the Elf went through during this time.


**A/N:**

 **Before you begin reading it should be kept in mind that this fic won't make any sense unless you read book 1 and then book 2, so with that in mind go do that.**

 **Otherwise I'd just like to note that I've never tried writing in this kind of format so feedback would be greatly appreciated!**

 **Besides that, I hope you enjoy Arya's journal that spans Book 2: Recovery**

* * *

The urge to begin this journal is foreign to my mind. Part of me wishes to keep a record of my thoughts, so that I may look back one day and reflect on what has occurred. Another part of me realises that I may not survive this war and that if I do leave this mortal coil I would wish for those close to me to have at least something to read, whether that provides them any comfort I do not know, and if that person is reading this then know I do not mean you harm by making this.

Finding time to add to this record will be difficult, my time is limited and my duties are what will take priority, still I will find time, if only to keep my mind focussed.

* * *

I write this entry on the day before I and Eragon leave Tonjheim.

I fear that we are leaving too soon, Eragon hasn't recovered as swiftly as I suspected, he thinks that no one can see his pained face or stifled walk, my eyes though can see it clearly. To make matters more complicated the Rider has sworn the oath of allegiance to me, but he does not know the true extent of its effects, he believes it to be a simple oath of fealty.

Was I wrong to do such a thing? Eragon was desperate and he did not want his honour bound to those who would use him as a mere weapon, while I know Nasuada's heart is that of her father's she is still young, and the young can be swayed ever so easily. But does this action not make me evil? I have twisted my words and deceived the Rider into become something that does not resemble a vassal, no it is something deeper…

Something forbidden.

My people are not allowed to use such a bond, they are easy to abuse and near impossible to break without the oath holder's permission. In the past such bonds caused strife and heartache, some lovers would proclaim these bonds to their partners, yet when the inevitable time came when the pair could no longer co-exist the oath holder would use their power over their previous lover in hideous fashion, stopping them from seeking new lovers, forcing them to stay with their partner even if they did not wish for such a relationship to continue.

In war many a soldier would swear this bond of allegiance to their King or Queen as a sign of true devotion, yet when the time came to enter battle Monarchs would throw their soldiers at the enemy with no care for their subjects' lives. Some of my brethren would blame this oath as the catalyst for our now diminished number and use such an excuse to hide away from Galbatorix.

But we cannot hide.

I do not intend to abuse the power Eragon has given me, even if he does not know it. I will not force him to commit actions he does not agree with, I say this as a promise to him as much as a drawn line that I must never cross. Nevertheless we need the Rider loyal to our cause, we cannot fight this war without his power, even if it is reduced from the Shade's curse.

Still I cannot help feel that my choice will have consequences, but what else was I to do? Trust that the humans would not misuse Eragon's blind faith in the ancient and foolish system of honour? No, I could not allow for such a thing to happen. Though I did not make this choice based on Eragon's position as a Rider, I did it for him as well. He has suffered a great deal, my trip into his mind revealed as much. I believe he trusts me more than any human.

Why?

Is it because I pushed him for answers? Because I went so far as to enter his mind without his permission? Does he think these actions were ultimately good for him? I don't know, the simple fact was he preferred me over the Varden, over his own people. If that is so then I truly wonder if those memories I saw was the true extent of his abuse at the hands of his village. Still I worry for this young Rider, though he acts better than he had previously I wonder if it is a ruse, I pray that it isn't, this journey we are to undertake will be draining for him, and what he may face in my homeland could be too much for him.

I think he needs a friend. The Rider has his Dragon Saphira, a beautiful creature whose sheer presence is still affixed firmly in my mind, and I believe I was the first to ever speak with her besides Eragon. However, the fact that Saphira had to come to me for aid concerning her Rider tells me that she could do little to help him. What if worse was to occur to Eragon, his only confidant that he voluntary confides in is Saphira, but she is not all knowing, neither am I, but it would be better for him to be open with other people, peoples whose minds are not connected as deeply as Saphira at least.

I will try and become acquaintances with the Rider, he seems likeable and he is certainty different compared to his own people.

* * *

It has been several days since I last wrote on this parchment. We are now in Tarnag, a dwarven city. We arrived today to the typical reception of the Dwarves on their mountain goats. For the most part our journey has been uneventful. Neither Eragon nor Orik have created much conversation. The Rider for his part seems more than content in the company of his Dragon while Orik seems to be savouring the darkened gloom of the caves his people adore so fondly. There however, was one incident, when we entered the walled city of the Dwarves our escort was accosted by members of an opposing clan, the Az Sweldn rak Anhûin. When one of their members spat at Orik Eragon flung himself at the offending dwarf. If I had not intervened Eragon may well have started a war between himself and the Az Sweldn rak Anhûin, something that they may have wanted, but something that no one else desires.

The look in the Rider's eye was… I had thought the rage I witnessed in Eragon during the battle of Farthen Dûr would be the last I would see of such a cold anger. But as quickly as it emerged in Eragon's eyes it vanished. I think afterwards he was ashamed of what he had done. I also regret my words to him, but there is little I can do now.

I shouldn't mention this, it is none of my business but I believe Eragon is pursuing Angela, a strange woman who titles herself as a Witch. I caught the two embracing before we left Tonjheim. I cannot find a reason to be suspicious of Angela, only that she knows of Eragon's abuse but she has not received this knowledge from me or Eragon. I have however heard tales of the Witch, a woman resembling a human who has visited Ellesméra in the past, but this was hundreds of years ago, how could she have lived for so long? Is she an Elf who has morphed her own face to blend in with the humans?

If so then Eragon should not form such a bond with Angela, there are too many unknown factors, she has not declared her allegiances nor is it wise for Eragon to form a relationship at such a tender age, and especially considering his mental state. Perhaps it is a good thing that the two will not be near each other for the coming months. It may well be that when the two are together again that differences will have emerged.

All I can do is caution Eragon, I am in no position to confront him over his personal dealings but he may just heed my words.

There is little more to discuss for now, and the rest of this trip will not have desk to write upon so I will struggle to keep the quality of my writing consistent.

* * *

Eragon is very ill.

Shortly after writing the previous entry I ventured out for a night time walk to clear my mind before I slept. Only when I turned a corner I encountered a panicking Dwarf. After stopping the young lady she told me about Eragon's predicament and she led me to his room. Inside and true to the Dwarf's word I found Eragon, his skin almost translucent and his eyes a blood red. Even now I am racking my mind and yet I can think on no illness, disease or poison that would cause these effects. The most I could do was alleviate his headache with a soaked cloth as I feared what could occur if I attempted to use magic.

It could be the Spirit that still resides in the Rider's mind, though I had believed that Oromis's mental block would have stopped this Spirit from affecting Eragon, perhaps the wall is not as stable as I first thought. The logic of this fever being the cause of this Spirit however is not flawless, why would the Spirit harm her host when she requires one to continue existing. Maybe instead the very presence of a Shade Spirit in the mind of one who isn't a Shade causes this.

For now I will keep watch by Eragon's bedside, looking over from this parchment I can see some colour has returned to the Rider's skin, it seems sleep will not being finding me this night.

* * *

It has been an uneventful week since my last writing. Travelling the Az Ragini has been strangely peaceful for myself and Eragon, who has recovered well from his nightmarish fever. Just a few days ago he joined Saphira to lounge lazily in the streaming water and I was rewarded with a sight that was most pleasant, he smiled.

It is such a simple thing to smile yet I it is a rare occurrence to see the Rider smile. More often or not he would be frowning or he was in pain from his scar, his attempt to hide this is still very weak. But a smile was a good sign, it proved that the Rider could be happy and perhaps it is an omen of better times.

Other than this I was able to talk with him the day after his fever. This conversation too was pleasant, Eragon is young but I think that he means well, I believe in my arrogance that I expected too much from him, through from the way he fights and the way he handles politics I can see he is quite Elf-like, guarded in both emotion and opinion. Given a few years he will make a valiant Dragon Rider, if he can be rid of this curse that cripples him.

* * *

I have felt hatred before, towards Galbatorix for killing my father. To the stigmas and prejudices humans held over their women. None of these compare to what I saw this night.

After landing the rafts and settling in for the evening Eragon had decided to practise some sword forms, and to his credit he did not falter when I and his Dwarven guards began to watch. Even though he is human, and his reaction time is slow it was good to see the Rider flow from stance to stance with a practiced grace. After a few minutes something seemed to change in the Rider and before I could even blink he was crippled over, whimpering as what I could only assume was another seizure took hold of the Rider.

I froze as the Dwarves around me began to swear at the sight whilst also backing away as Saphira approached her Rider. Over the course of few excruciating minutes Eragon screamed and yelled in agony, the noise still rings in my ears, but there was nothing that I or anyone else could do. I believe Saphira knew this too as she grumbled and scratched at the ground around her Rider in what I could only assume was frustration. Finally Eragon's pained cries began to diminish, and while I would have thought the Rider would have sought comfort from Saphira he instead pushed her away before scrabbling to his feet and running away blindly into the darkened forest.

The pleading gaze that Saphira's eyes held, coupled with my own concern fuelled my pursuit of Eragon, though not before I ordered the Dwarves to stay put, I did not need the added concern for their lives as well whilst hunting down Eragon.

Thankfully Eragon is only human and he shares in their slower pacing and inability to see through the heavy dark of the night, I had no trouble picking my way through the forest in pursuit of him, his erratic breathing and continuous breaking of falling branches making it all the more easier for me to catch up with him. Acting on the belief that he would resist my calls I was forced to physically tackle him to the ground, though I wished I could have been gentler, in the end I was simply stronger than him and any attempts to free himself were futile.

Silence fell as Eragon ceased his struggles and so I pushed him on why he had fled, and after what could have only been some persuasion on the part of Saphira, the Rider reluctantly relented.

Part of me truly wishes I had not asked.

Eragon told his tale with a monotone voice, I could pick up no emotion as he recounted a day when he still lived in his village, this alone made me wary of what this memory seemed to be doing to the Rider. At first I thought he would speak of further abuse done by the people of Carvahall, something that already sends shivers through my bones.

No, Eragon had a different reason for speaking about this day.

I… I struggle to put into words how I feel with what Eragon has told me.

He… he tried to end his life.

When he was describing the event at the time I remember vividly clenching my hands into the ground and making a silent vow to myself, if I ever met one of the Villagers who had bullied Eragon, who had made him feel so unwelcome, who had made him feel like he wasn't worth living… I would kill them.

I do not regret this promise.

Shortly after Eragon had finished speaking his eyes returned to mine as if seeking something, closure perhaps? I could not give that to him, instead I did what went against all that I thought I was, I held him, so that he knew that I did not judge him, no I judge those that forced Eragon into thinking death was a better alternative.

I remember running my hand through Eragon's hair, a gesture my mother would do to calm me when I was young, however I wonder if I have overstepped my bounds. I have become intimate with Eragon and though it was only to comfort him when he was distressed it leaves me conflicted, I know longer care for Eragon the Dragon Rider who slew a Shade, I care for Eragon the abused farm boy, a child who has been through one type of hell only to be thrown into another. But what is stronger, my concern for Eragon, or my duty to my people? What happens when I am forced to choose, what if one day I have to order Eragon to do something that will hurt him for the sake of my people?

If I was asked this a month ago I know I would have chosen in an instance, now however I doubt myself.

But I need not worry at this moment in time, for now Eragon is sleeping by Saphira's side and there is no sign of danger, though I never expected any, no Imperial patrol would dare go so far away from a human settlement and no creature would dare attack a Dragon.

* * *

We are now in the kingdom of my people.

Much has happened. I have duelled with the Rider again, and he had grown close with the Dwarves. I am not surprised, Dwarves have always been held more in common with humans than Elves. They are also the first people not to treat Eragon with distain, this may be the reason for why he is more open with them, offering them small grins at their antics and tales, something he never did in the company of his own people.

I notice when flicking through the pages of this journal that I have focused on the young Rider more than any other topic, not from lack of diversity but rather that Eragon is familiar, he is someone easy to write about.

He would have gotten along with Faolin well. Both were quiet men and even though I have known Eragon a short time I believe he shares Faolin's his apprehension for violence, if his fighting style is anything to judge him by.

I have gone off topic, forgive me.

My duel with Eragon was different from our first in Tonjheim. Now I knew his cautious behaviour and his preference for waiting for an opening, so I left him none. I slammed against his defences, leaving him no quarter, no opportunity to push me back. I did not spare him any of my strength either, he could take it.

Until I fractured his wrist.

After this it was only a matter of time before his defeat, but Eragon did not give in to his credit, his perseverance was surprising and it stirred a fire within me, something that I cannot decide whether I should be ashamed of, or I should just put it down towards the heat of the moment.

When he continued to fight after his injury I wished to crush his resistance.

Not to belittle him, or to stop such behaviour from occurring again, no…

To prove I was better.

It is such a petty feeling and one caused by my failure during our first sparring match, but still I cannot deny that I enjoyed our battle, one sided as it was. In the future I wish to fight him again, to see how he improves, but also to see if this fire within myself will manifest again. I will not lie when I say that I enjoyed this feeling.

It could be from all the tales I have heard of the mighty Riders, how there feats were that of legend and something even my people would struggle to achieve by themselves. And now I have beaten one, some would say I was just being competitive, and I cannot deny such a notion but… Eragon has been the first time in a several decades that I have enjoyed sparring, it was nice.

* * *

Ellesméra, my home. Long has it been since I have walked among the ageless forest, seeing the faces of people untroubled by the chaos that wreaks havoc in Alagaesia, they are blessed with ignorance.

Our journey here has been fraught with more trouble than I had intended. During the first night under the cover of the green leaves I witnessed a fracture in Eragon as he seemingly broke down in front of the blue Dragon. I should have acted then and there.

But instead I did something foolish, I separated Eragon from the one thing that kept him sane.

As we came closer and closer to Ellesméra I believed it wise for Saphira to stay behind and for her to fly over to us when we had reached the outskirts of Ellesméra, the key reason being that I did not know how my people would react to the sight of a Dragon flying over them, nor if there were any ancient spells still lingering that would have harmed the Dragon if she had followed us on foot.

Saphira seemed to disagree with my plan, I could not blame her. From what I knew of the Dragon she treated Eragon with an almost fanatical possessiveness, her eyes often followed her Rider and they would sleep and eat in each other's company. In a way she acted like a protective mother hen to Eragon, something that I feel Eragon never truly had and taking into account his upbringing I can understand why Saphira would be reluctant to part with her Rider.

Eragon however managed to convince the Dragon to be beholden to my plan and so the Rider found Saphira a hidden grove for her to stay within whilst we journeyed onwards, though I did decide to keep a wary eye upon Eragon, if only to keep Saphira satisfied.

The first day passed with ease, Eragon seemed perfectly fine without Saphira by his side, though when we made for camp his eyes lingered behind him, though only for a few moments.

On the second day I should have noticed something had gone awry, Eragon was quieter, he did not talk to the Elven guides and even Orik found it difficult to gain a response from the Rider, but I ignored this as the usual behaviour of the Rider. That was until he heard the songs of my people in the night. For Elves the songs are akin to a call to home, an unruly temptation, but one easily managed. For Dwarves and Humans it is hypnotic, both Orik and Eragon had to be restrained before I and my Elven sentries could place a ward around our encampment to block out my brethren's voices.

For that night no one slept, Orik and Maria remained alert by the ritual. Eragon however seemed almost haunted by my people's song, his eyes remaining fixated on the path we had walked that day, as though he wished to return to Saphira. He later confirmed as much, his voice dry and emotional, almost begging to be allowed to return to her.

I could not let him. It was only one more day I told myself, even as I shook my head, trying to ignore the pale complexion of the rider and his lack of appetite.

On the third day the Rid- Eragon did not speak, he mounted his stead and followed along. Something was wrong, even as rain began to fall on us I could feel a coldness in the air, the birds and creatures that should have been obliviously scurrying around were absent. If not for Maria's questioning voice I would not have known what would have occurred next.

When the Dwarven servant called out for Eragon and she garnered no response I turned to look for him, only to find his saddle empty and Zar'roc removed. Desperately I listened for sounds of breaking underbrush, snapping twigs, ripped leaves, anything.

Fortune favoured me it seems.

I was rewarded with the sounds of Eragon blundering around, his pacing so slow and loud I could hear his footsteps. I was easily able to catch up with the Rider, yelling to the others to stay where they were. I found Eragon behind an old tree, its roots driven through the land, uncaring of the environment around it. Eragon had drawn his blade, and he looked like he was in the midst of… if I had been a second too late I wouldn't have been able to stop him.

Eragon had tried to kill himself.

Again.

I was forced to use his oath to stop his actions, I did not regret this for a moment, even as Eragon threw hideous words at me. No I threw the crimson blade to the side and once again I held Eragon tightly as he released a tired, ragged sob, something that I feel he has let build up. Soon he fell into a slumber, though I did not loosen my hold on him, even as my hands shook from what had just occurred.

Why would he attempt such an action? Even now I do not have all the answers. It was not the distance from Saphira, I knew that much as the blue Dragon emerged only moments later, her eyes looking down at the pale Rider clutched close to me with such concern that I did not know was possible.

Soon afterwards I would place Eragon with Saphira, the Dragon quickly coiling her tail around his waist and collapsing a wing over him. Then I was once again submerged into Saphira's hulking mind, she thanked me and gave a skewered explanation for what had occurred.

It was not the Spirit within his mind, not completely. There was a crack in the wall that had been placed in Eragon's mind, something that Saphira had quickly fixed, but even then the Spirit couldn't have caused such irreparable harm, all the Spirit could do was whisper doubt unto Eragon's fragile mind.

The real cause was, according to Saphira, Eragon's own mind.

Eragon's mind is not a stable thing. I remember being told by my elders that the mind is a curious object, it can endure much, yet it cannot bear the strain or pressure forever. The mind has limits, and sometimes it can be broken.

This is what has happened to Eragon, his own mind is broken, if left alone his memories would flood his mind with all the pain, misery and torment he has ever endured. Saphira has done her best to stop such torture from occurring whilst also filling Eragon with love and compassion to fill the void that his mind cannot create, however the distance I forced on the pair strained their bond. Saphira had to make a decision, either block his rampant memories or provide her Rider with positive emotions. Saphira chose the former.

I can see why she chose this option, surely the chaotic memories that Eragon's mind holds could drive anyone to insanity, however it was the void of love that doomed him, because this void could have been filled with something else, hatred, self-loathing and anger.

It took only three days for Eragon to reach such a state of mind where he thought death was the only real alternative.

Saphira says it took the form of emptiness in his mind, a pitiless cold that could not be driven off.

For now Eragon will be fine, Saphira has vowed to not leave his side and it would irresponsible for me to suggest otherwise. This however raises more questions, even if Eragon's back can be healed his mind is another matter entirely, no magic in that I know can heal such damage. He must be kept safe, Eragon cannot be allowed to make drastic choices that could lead to further pain, further water added to the seas of agony that Saphira must hold back.

Saphira has asked of my aid once more, to protect her Rider. I accepted instantly.

But how do I attempt such a feat?

For the moment I have no idea, I have warned Eragon that change will come. I plan to consult with my mother later this evening, after her Royal affairs have been seen to. In the meantime I shall rest in my room, a place I have not been in for over half a century. I have missed my people, I have missed my mother, though I still loathe how she still wishes to treat me as a child. I have missed the peace that Ellesméra instils in my heart, something that dulls the aches it has suffered.

I cannot remember Faolin's voice.

It struck me as I write that I cannot recall his tone, or how his voice rolls over words. I can still picture his face clearly, but this small feature is gone. Perhaps it is a sign, even now the throbbing pain that occurs when I remember him is fading, it no longer traps the air in my lungs or makes my body feel so pitifully cold, am I moving on? The idea of such is horrible, I am not ready to leave him behind, yet my mind and my body are working against my heart.

There is but one final thing I wish to touch upon before I rest my writing arm and bathe.

When I had to stop Eragon with the oath he declared I felt an odd sensation. To pull on its power is odd in itself, it feels as though you are wrapping your mind around a rope, pulling on your subject as you tell them your will. The rope is not inside your mind however, it is as though the rope is invisible and joins both I and Eragon together.

What I felt was not too dissimilar to what rushed through my being when I fought Eragon, it is like adrenaline. It is invigorating, it removes the strict walls I have place on my emotions, it lets me be happy.

Perhaps this is why my people have forbidden this oath, not for its outward dangers, but this emotion that it can create. I wonder if Eragon felt the same? Alas this is not the time for such questions.

* * *

The past few weeks having been trying, yet rewarding.

After consulting with my mother we both agreed that Eragon would be offered sanctuary within Ellesméra and away from the responsibilities that he would have to bear, this took some convincing on my own part and in the end I had to tell my mother what his childhood in Carvahall had been like. I was playing upon my mother's weakness for children to gain her approval for such a plan, but I know that by telling her, her opinion of Eragon shifted as well. My mother no longer sees Eragon as the solution to Galbatorix's reign, she sees him as a person.

My mother does not approve of the deceit that I used on Eragon to gain his allegiance. She stopped short of asking me to release him though.

Eragon however, refused sanctuary. I did not need to ask my mother how she felt about Eragon's refusal, if she were a dragon I hold no doubt the halls would be filled with smoke. I admit that I do not agree with Eragon's decision, he cannot be of any use to us in his current condition, especially considering Ethric's diagnosis. Even though the healer would not go further into detail or speculation it is clear that the curse on Eragon's back is causing the poisoning of his blood and while I still hold the Ethric to a high standard, his blind faith in the healing arts blinds him to what effect the curse has on Eragon, he will not be able to cure him without removing the curse.

This leads me to less favourable news. My people cannot help Eragon, not fully. We can ease his suffering but that is all, if he does not succumb to the curse's symptoms then he may live a comfortable life, but he will forever be troubled. Still Eragon persists in his training, and no one has the heart to tell him the reality of the situation. I cannot fault the boy, his determination is almost inspiring if perhaps naïve.

Unfortunately I have had little opportunity to meet with Eragon or Saphira, my duties to my mother are heavy, and I must council with her everyday as our kingdom begins to rebuild our bonds with the Varden. Through from what I have been told Eragon has made an impression on my people, though it is polarising. Some Elves see him as a sign of hope, a sign that the Riders will return. However, others see past this, they see how Eragon struggles and they know he can do nothing to help.

For the moment though, things are well. Eragon is recovering somewhat from the journey he has just undertaken, and though I see him less often that I prefer he seems happier, even his scar is proving to be less troublesome, I wonder if this is Oromis's doing? What is more comforting is that the Rider confided in me the other day, I remember hearing news of Eragon blessing a child in Tonjheim, however Eragon learnt from his new master that the words he spoke turned his blessing into a curse. While I am saddened by this small piece of news I feel… happy that Eragon trusted me enough to confide in this revelation, even if it took some pushing on my own part, we are becoming closer and while we trade callous words with each other from time to time it is healthier than letting such feelings build and boil.

Though… this does lead me onto my next point. Ever since I have felt the rush of elation from commanding Eragon I have felt… empty? If that is even the correct word to use. When I am not exposed to the feeling I am assaulted by a rather subtle itching feeling in the corners of my mind, for the most part it is more of a nuisance than a concern, in fact it deepens when I am near Eragon, though his company is pleasant enough to overlook such irritation. For now I shall think nothing of it, at most I believe it is just my mind coming to terms with the newfound bond I share with Eragon, as his liege, though even this term fills to formal. I will think of a better one at a later date.

* * *

Life in Ellesméra feels slow to the extent I would call it torturous, my days are spent in court with my mother, and at evenings I consult with her over matters that I hold little knowledge of or interest. I suspect my mother is eager to simply have me around, and the fact I hold little agenda must be welcoming for my mother when she is surrounded by arguing voices who have not stepped outside of Du Weldenvarden. For so long I wondered what life for me would be like if I had remained in Ellesméra with my mother, but now I see that I would have just been blinded to the issues of the wider world. The Elven council preaches of the plights of the Elves, yet they are trivial compared to what the humans face.

I must admit I would rather spend my days away from the royal court, but my duty to my people will always come first, if I must be the wall that endures the words of the Elven council or a voice of reason for my mother so be it. My annoyance is only exemplified when I do get a day or two to spend away from my people's politics that I realise my time is wasted. Today in fact I gathered Orik and we joined Eragon whilst he was being tutored by Oromis on the creation of fairths.

I will admit I created my own and that their appearance startled me at first, to be honest I allowed my mind to drift and the images were formed. The first was that of Eragon with Saphira as they swam together, it took me a moment to realise why I had created this fairth, only to come to the understanding the Rider is on my mind for various reasons, he is my friend, he is also my vassal (or subject, I still struggle to find an appropriate term) and most of all I am concerned for him. To subconsciously create an image of him when he is happy makes sense to me the more I think about it, as that is what I would want for him.

The second fairth I made however does not follow the same logic. I am holding Eragon in my lap, I cannot see myself in this fairth, but I know it is my lap as this is the position I held him in after I stopped him attempting to end his life.

Why would my mind want to recreate this image? I am not fond of it, I despise it, I am only glad I stopped Eragon from committing such a regretful action.

This leads me to only one conclusion, that I enjoyed holding the Rider.

I reluctantly admit to instinctively touching the Rider, stealing swipes at him at times that are they are not needed or appropriate. What is worse is that I know Eragon finds such contact distasteful, whenever he can Eragon avoids such contact, nor have I ever seen him touching another person. Saphira is of course the lone exemption to this. I… I think I find such actions comforting, it is a rather basic reason, but if I know he is there physically then I know he is safe.

Why would he not be safe though?

Even when we travelled he was under the protection of the finest of Dwarven guards, a bonded dragon and myself, of course he was safe!

I had thought the same of Faolin and myself, both of us were warded and yet he died.

My father was surrounded by swarms of my own people and yet he died.

I am being paranoid, however this infuriating itch seems to be satiated by such foolish notions that I can almost believe them. Sometimes I even argue with myself over such bizarre possibilities, one such belief was that Oromis was not teaching Eragon correctly, and that I should tutor him.

This itch has somehow gained a voice but I will not be swayed.

Tomorrow I go to watch Eragon as he duels with a young Elf named Vanir. Hopefully this paranoia will be silenced once I have seen Eragon's improvement with Zar'roc, afterwards it would be best to talk to Eragon himself about this feeling, both this itch and what I felt before when I ordered him about.

* * *

What have I done?

* * *

Much had happened, Eragon is in a coma, the spirit had been freed and Vanir is dead. Some of the blame falls at my feet alone. I saw what Eragon was going through with his training and I interfered thinking that I knew best, I have no doubt in my mind that my humiliation of Vanir caused him to challenge Eragon.

It was obvious to me that the second I heard Vanir spewing insults at Eragon that I was wrong to entrust Oromis with Eragon's training and that only I knew what was best for him.

It had been going so well, Eragon trusted me even though he had his doubts, the Rider followed me instead of Oromis. Then I went too far.

After our first training session Eragon approached me, his voice sincere and his motives pure, he was concerned with my own wellbeing and instead of answering him and telling Eragon about my worries I hurt him, because in my mind I thought that I knew best.

I had let this damned itch, no craving win, when it told me to control Eragon I did so, and when it instructed me to keep Eragon in his place I did so. All because it was right…

I often call Eragon a fool, but this time I am the fool.

Now… I don't know what to do. My mother is being pressed on all sides, some wish for Eragon to be banished, others wish for my mother to step down as Queen and a growing number want Eragon's head.

A small amount of praise has been thrown at me for stopping the Spirit before it could begin its rampage, I had stolen a knife from one of my brethren and used it to pin Eragon to the ground. Only then did I realise that the Spirit had truly gained control of Eragon's mind. The Spirit then started to taunt me, and it worked. I threw punch after punch trying to force the Spirit out of Eragon, if only so I could explain to him… so that he wouldn't continue to think ill of me.

Even then I failed. Just before the Spirit left I think Eragon saw what I had been doing, and I was too late… I hurt him again.

I just don't know what I am going to do. If Eragon ever awakens from his slumber he will hate me, and I cannot even blame him for this. He will wish that I release him from his vow, but I cannot. How will I ever know that he is safe, that he will not try to endanger himself?

Saphira will not talk to me either, though this does not surprise me, I have become too much trouble, my behaviour has been to erratic and she will not trust me enough to keep Eragon safe when I could… I could…

What was I even trying to do to Eragon?

Enslave him? To bend him to my will? What good would that even serve when he was already loyal to me, he trusted me and I squandered it.

Maybe I do wish to keep Eragon safe, and this sick twisted obsession my mind has created that haunts me would seek to us any method to see that Eragon is not harmed, even if that would cost his freedom.

I must change, this dark desire must never be allowed to dictate my actions again.

When Eragon awakens I will plead with him for another chance, I cannot apologise for my actions because they were something I did without any regret, and it sickens me to admit that I still don't. But Eragon is… was my friend and I would still have such friendship with him. If the Rider allows me a second chance then I can never step in his way again, I will seal this sickness in my mind away, it will never again will my desires… my emotions guide my actions. I will be a true friend to the Rider. All I can hope for is that Eragon is willing to try.

But… If he does not then I will understand and I will dedicate myself to serving my mother and my people. And if Eragon does provide me another opportunity but I feel myself slipping to this temptation once more then I will leave, I will not hurt Eragon again.

* * *

I am leaving Ellesméra tonight.

The last few weeks have been wondrous but it must end. Eragon has awakened from his coma and he agreed to my request. There was tension at first, both Saphira and Eragon demanded I released his oath, I couldn't, it has only aided me in keeping him safe, not to mention the problems that would occur if Eragon was not bound by either the Elves or the Varden. In the end both Dragon and Rider conceded.

From there the main issue came in the form of Eragon's punishment, Oromis had come earlier to reinforce the wall that blocked the Spirit in Eragon's mind but even then the Rider would have to face the Elven council. Neither my mother nor I could do much in way of helping Eragon, but luckily the court voted narrowly in favour of allowing Eragon to stay.

After this affair Eragon settled back into training with Oromis, though at a dismally slow pace, his cursed back was now hindering everything the Rider did. At times I wished that I could have helped him in some way, even if it was to help him with walking but I could not allow myself to become tempted. I doubt Eragon would have even allowed me to assist him anyway, even though he had forgiven me partially the Rider still watched me with guarded eyes.

Only after an incident with Saphira did some trust start to be regained. But Eragon was still suffering, he could barely get about his day normally, if he was lucky he would only suffer a handful of seizures a day, and he had reached his limit in terms of training with Oromis, though the old master would never have agreed with me on such a sentiment. In the back of my mind I feared Eragon was coming to the end of his days.

Then the Agaetí Blödhren occurred. Like from a tale from old, a Dragon appeared and healed the broken Rider, no longer was he held back by Durza's curse, and boosted by the towering fairth Eragon had brought and the transformation he had undertaken, Eragon was finally accepted by my people as a true Rider and Elf Friend.

Later that night I found Eragon wandering the glades and gardens of Ellesméra and my heart ruptured with so many emotions, happiness that he would live, but also sadness, now there was nothing keeping Eragon from fighting in the war against the Empire. I tried to push these feelings away, but even as we embraced under the starry night I knew I could not stay with him. The sick desire to control Eragon was returning, for two months I held it at bay, but when I saw Eragon standing there, no longer sick, no longer weakened, all of it came rushing back, he was perfect, whole and I could not let him ruin himself again.

I could not let this obsession ruin our friendship, I had clawed it back from near destruction and I will not damage it.

As a fall back plan I had agreed to return to the Varden to serve as ambassador for my people once more, my mother acquiesced reluctantly, she pleaded with me to try and work through this problem, if not with her with Eragon. I cannot risk it though.

This will be my last entry into this journal, its writings reminds me of my failings and I will not add further to it. Though, as I flick through these pages I can see now that these feelings were not fully caused by my bond over Eragon, I have skewered my view of Eragon with that of my father and Faolin. I cannot deny it any longer, Eragon has become something… more, I do not know what I would do if I lost him, for my sake and my people's. My obsession must be buried, and it cannot be done with Eragon so close. I ride now for Surda, I only hope that Eragon understands why I must leave him.

* * *

It has been awhile since I have touched the pages of this book, I do not know why I have returned to it, though I have the inclination that my mind has focused upon it when Nasuada demanded I summoned Eragon to help with the impeding army sent by the Empire. I of course refused the leader of the Varden, Eragon needs as much times as he can spare to train, I have faith that the Varden and the forces of Surda will be more than enough to stop whatever horde that Galbatorix has sent.

Though this leads me to the true reason for why I write once more upon the battered parchment of this journal, whenever my mind focuses on the Rider I write in this journal. The time for Eragon to return to the Varden approaches, whether it be after this battle or before I cannot tell, but something in the wind causes me to believe this.

I have coped well since separating myself from the Rider, no longer do I feel the dull throb in my chest or the desire to bend Eragon to my will, though I hold little reason to believe that they won't return once Eragon does. I have come to the conclusion that I must do something about this problem, and I have come to the belief there are two things that can come of this.

The first is I tell Eragon that I wish to release him from his vow, this would forever remove my power to control him though I do not know if these ghastly emotions will leave along with my control over Eragon. This is the safest option, by doing this it removes any possibility that I could bend Eragon's will to mine. Though doubt lingers in my mind, what if Eragon does something foolish, he could try and flee, he may well attempt to end his life again, and even though this idea puts a sour taste in my mouth, there is nothing stopping Eragon from taking over from Galbatorix should we be victorious. Only with this power over him can I be reassured that Eragon is kept in line.

The other option is, riskier. I do nothing. I continue to struggle with my heart and these emotions, at some point I may very well break and try something similar to what I did with Eragon after we had trained but at least Eragon will stay well guided under my eye. Even then I cannot trust myself fully, I hold no wish to abuse my power over Eragon, but what good does wishes do over desires? I am not infallible, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, I could very well decide at the end of this war that I won't release Eragon from his oath. Neither of these options satisfies my duty to my people and my friendship with the Rider.

All I can do is hope that I make the right choice when the time comes, and I fear the dread hour is coming too swiftly.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **So I hope that wasn't too terrible :)**

 **I tried to keep a balance with this fic, it needed to explain Arya's actions while at the same time give her views on certain subjects. Even as I read over this for last minute checks I still think that this fic is perhaps too focused on Eragon, but I didn't want to write needless fluff, and also it does show the slow spiral of Arya's obsession with Eragon.**

 **I will admit that another reason for this fic's creation is to help get rid some of the confusion with Recovery, and now would be as good as time as any to announce that the rest of the series will be Arya x Eragon. I hear your pleas and I believe I have an acceptable story line that can follow such a pairing whilst also fitting into the wider story. Also the next two books will have Arya's POV as well, hopefully I can make it flow well and not trigger my own dislike of such storytelling.**

 **Will this pairing be completely obvious straight away? For those eagle eyed readers, yes. At the same time Eragon and Arya won't just be Mates with a snap of my fingers, they've got stuff to work through before they consider a relationship. Also there's a war going on and all that jazz. And someone will be appearing in Eragon's life that will cause quite a bit of heartache for the poor Rider, but that's enough leaks from me... :)**

 **But now the hour grows late, and you guys still have another month until I release the third book in this series (WHICH STILL DOESN'T HAVE A TITLE!)**

 **So for now I say goodnight.**


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